


A Light In the Dark

by usernicole



Series: flicker [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Canon Compliant, Friends to Lovers, Homesickness, Long-Distance Friendship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 16:21:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12535996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usernicole/pseuds/usernicole
Summary: Far away from his friends at the castle, Keith's only way of communicating with them is a battered old phone. This is maybe going to be harder than he thought.A long-distance, friends-to-lovers fic, set during season four.





	A Light In the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> here it iiiiiissssss the most self-indulgent thing in the world. i made it, it's here.
> 
>  **WARNINGS** this fic deals a lot with anxiety and the canon-compliant suicidal ideation that keith goes through in season 4. there is a scene in which keith has a panic attack. everything in this fic is based off of my own experiences with this stuff. if ur sensitive to things like this, u should probably read something else and also i love u and i hope ur doing okay
> 
> much, much, much love to the lovely [mika](http://lavenderliquidhotchocolate.tumblr.com/) who read this over for me when i was freaking the FUCK out about my keith characterization. she saved me
> 
> title comes from the song flicker by niall horan

“Hey, dumbass, hold on a minute, would you?”

Lance’s voice rings loud throughout the hangar, and Keith stops. He’s got a small pack slung across his back, carrying only the barest of essentials. He had left most of his things in his room. His clothes, his red jacket, any souvenirs he picked up over the months they’ve been in space. They're going to sit and gather dust, but a part of Keith will be left in the castle, waiting there for when he gets back. He _is_ coming back. He has to keep reminding himself.

“Um,” Keith says, dropping his hood and turning back to Lance. “What? I thought we did all the...goodbye stuff.” He waves the hand not clutching his duffle bag around vaguely. “You know, earlier.”

Lance, who had been standing tensely in the open doorway of the pod hangar, visibly slumps. His fists unclench, and he shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. Keith sort of flounders as Lance makes his way over, shifting from one foot to the other.

Saying goodbye to team Voltron had been hard. Keith had made himself more vulnerable than he was usually comfortable with, and all the contact and sincere emotion had left him feeling overexposed and raw inside, like the inside of his skin was shredded.

He’s itching to fly, to get out of his own head a bit. He both hates and loves how natural it feels for him to be alone. He loves it because this is hard—harder than anything he’s ever done, probably—but it could be a lot harder. He’s used to it. He hates it because he knows that he shouldn't have had to get used to it. He should have had a mom and a dad there, to help him, to teach him. He feels like the decision to leave is the right one, but what if he’s wrong?

He’s no expert on family, or people in general. He feels this acutely as Lance stops directly in front of him, shoulders still hunched and a glare on his face. Keith can't read him. He doesn’t know what he did between their group hug and now that would warrant that look.

They stare at each other awkwardly for a moment, and then Lance heaves a big sigh. “You didn't think you were going to leave just like that, did you?” he says, and when he looks into Keith’s eyes there’s something pleading there.

Keith doesn’t know the right answer. “Uh, no?” he says, scratching at the back of his head. He resents Lance a bit for this. His exit had been mentally rehearsed and—he’d thought—precisely executed. Mission accomplished.

Lance is, annoyingly, going off script.

Lance groans, rubbing his hands through his hair roughly. “Look,” he says, “I get that you’re Mister Lone Wolf, but we’re a family now. Families don’t just...disappear.” He winces. “I mean, I guess yours sorta...did. Sorry. Fuck.” He drags his hands down his face, pulling at the skin of his cheeks, and Keith registers, finally, how upset Lance is. Lance doesn't touch his face, his skincare regimen is too meticulous for that. He’s gotten on Keith about it too many times for Keith not to notice.

“What I’m trying to get at here is this,” Lance says, and pulls something from the pocket of his hoodie.

It’s Lance’s cell phone. Lance had begged and begged Pidge to rig something so it would be usable. It can’t contact Earth, of course, but it’s connected to the ship’s communication system, and Lance can take pictures with it.

The phone’s a bit dinged up, the orange paint chipping at the corners, but Keith knows Lance tries to take care of it. He takes it from Lance’s outstretched hand reverently. When he activates it, a picture of Lance smiles up at him, face squished up against the cheeks of two laughing little kids.

Lance coughs and reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket to pull out a cord. “Here’s the charger,” he says. “Pidge swears the line is secure and untraceable. All of our lion’s comm codes are on it, and Pidge has already started working on another copy for me to use. She didn't have enough time to make you a new one, so you have to deal with my hand-me-downs. You need to promise me you’ll check in.”

“Check in?”

“Check in,” Lance says seriously. “Every day, if possible. I’m—” He cuts himself off. “ _We’re_ going to go crazy if you don't, wondering if you’re alive or not. A single text will do, even. Just so we know.”

Keith nods, still staring down at the screen. The phone is warm in his hand, probably from Lance’s pocket. There’s a small chip in the screen on the bottom right corner. Lance loves this fucking phone.

“I, uh,” Lance is starting to sound less confident the longer Keith doesn't say anything. “I have all the pictures backed up, so don’t be afraid to delete stuff if you need more space.There’s actually some, uh, embarrassing stuff in there so I’d actually prefer it if you did.” He laughs a little, rubbing the back of his head. “Not that I imagine the Blade of Marmora HQ will have a ton of selfie opportunities.” He pauses, awkward. “The passcode is 0113. It’s Hunk’s birthday.”

Keith blinks, hard. He’s been here too long now. It’s finally starting to hit him. He needs to go.

“Um,” Lance continues, voice slightly wobbly. “I just...I know I said that thing earlier about making fun of you, man, but you have to know I...I really...being partners, your right hand man, it was…”

He doesn’t finish, looking up and away from Keith and towards the overhead lights. His eyes are shiny with tears. “I think I have Angry Birds on there,” he says after a moment. His voice cracks halfway through. “You can play, as long as you don't beat my high score.”

Keith chokes on a sob, gripping the phone tightly in one hand and throwing his arms around Lance’s shoulders. Lance doesn't hesitate to return the hug, wrapping his arms around Keith’s waist and burying his face in Keith’s neck.

“Thank you,” Keith says into Lance’s ear, voice barely above a whisper. He slides a hand up to grip at the back of Lance’s head. “For everything. I didn't—I wouldn’t have been able to do it, if not for you. Be a good right hand to Shiro. I’ll check in. Every day. I promise.”

Lance nods, not saying anything, but his grip tightens around Keith’s waist before he steps away. He raises a wrist to rub at his cheeks, wiping away his tears with the sleeve of his hoodie. Keith is wearing armor, so he lets his fall, it’s just a couple.

“I’m totally going to beat your fucking Angry Birds score,” he says, and Lance laughs.

 

***

_Text Log — Stardate 02012347:1845_

**Keith:** Arrived at the base.

 **Lance:** cool

***

_Text Log — Stardate 02032347:1937_

**Keith:** I’m alive.

 **Lance:** ok

***

_Text Log — Stardate 02102347:1925_

**Keith:** Still alive.

 **Lance:** right

***

_Text Log — Stardate 02212347:1855_

**Keith:** Alive.

 **Lance:** u know i don't say this enough but ur an EXCELLENT conversationalist. have i ever told u that?

***

_Text Log — Stardate 02222347:1515_

**Keith:** No??

 **Lance** : no what

 **Keith:** No, you have never said I was an excellent conversationalist.

 **Keith:** I’m alive, by the way.

 **Lance:** lol sorry. guess sarcasm doesn't really translate over text.

 **Lance:** good to know ur still kickin it

***

_Text Log — Stardate 03172347:1735_

**Lance:** guess what

 **Lance:** pidge found matt

 **Keith:**!!!

 **Lance:** I KNOW

 **Keith:** I’m happy for her. Will you tell her for me?

 **Lance:** of course. she's over the moon

 **Lance:** (literally haha)

 **Keith:** Is he as big of a dork as she is?

 **Lance:** he’s worse.

 **Keith:** Hahaha

***

_Text Log — Stardate 04052347:1427_

**Lance:** so hunk figured out milkshakes

 **Lance:** [file:attached“Hunk_the_Milkshake_God.jpeg]

 **Lance:** r u jealous

 **Lance:** u should be i’m telling u this shit is D E L I C I O U S

 **Lance:** it is bringing all the boys to the yard and by boys i mean Team Voltron + Matt + Bi Boh Bi

 **Keith:** What the fuck is a bi boh bi?

 **Keith:** and I’m lactose intolerant, you fuck.

 **Lance:** oh whoops

 **Lance:** sucks to be u i guess lol

***

_Text Log — Stardate 05132347:2335_

**Keith:** Surprisingly, still alive.

 **Lance:**???????

 **Keith:** Trust me, you don't want to know.

***

_Text Log — Stardate 05042347:1246_

**Keith:** [file:attached “Keith_the_Angry_Birds_God.jpeg”]

 **Lance:** u fucker

 **Keith:** Hahahahahahaha

***

_Text Log — Stardate 05122347:0045_

**Keith:** hey

 **Lance:** hey buddy!! how’s it goin?

 **Keith:** It’s going.

 **Keith:** How is everyone?

 **Lance:** oh man u would not BELIEVE the shenanigans the holts and hunk have been up to

 **Lance:** hold on i'll take a picture of them they're on one of their nerd rampages

 **Keith:** Hahahaha

 **Keith:** Wish I was there.

***

_Text Log — Stardate 05172347:1645_

**Lance:** hey man u haven’t texted in a few days...everything ok?

 **Lance:** just checking in

***

_Text Log — Stardate 051912347:1735_

**Lance:** hey buddy

***

_Text Log — Stardate 05212347:1655_

**Lance:** starting to get a little worried now

***

_Text Log — Stardate 05222347:0435_

**Lance:** keith?

***

_Text Log — Stardate 05222347:2045_

**Keith:** I’m sorry. I’m alive. I was on a long mission. I’ll try to tell you beforehand next time.

 **Keith:** I’m sorry.

 **Lance:** don't be sorry. i get it man

 **Lance:** would appreciate some heads up tho we were worried

 **Lance:** allura was threatening to fight kolivan when he wouldn't tell us where u were lol

 **Keith:** Kolivan would lose.

 **Keith:** You told Allura?

 **Lance:** ya i'm kind of ur unofficial secretary

 **Lance:** “how’s keith doing? did he check in? is he eating enough? is he warm enough?”

 **Keith:** Haha, I’m sorry I guess?

 **Lance:** don't be. i like being the BoM’s gossip girl

 **Lance:** spotted: BoM’s newest kid soldier, Loner Boi. 2 feet shorter than everyone else. rockin a spooky mask and a flashy hood. and is that a mullet we see? guess only time will tell

 **Lance:** xoxo

 **Lance:** gossip lance

 **Keith:** I never know what the fuck you’re talking about.

 **Lance:** hahaha

 **Lance:** i’m glad ur okay keith

 **Keith** : Thanks, Lance.

***

_Text Log — Stardate 06112347:1945_

**Lance:** hey, u around?

***

 

Keith is, in fact, around.It’s a rare night off at the Blade Headquarters, but rather than spend it in the common area with the other guys, Keith is laying in his room, bored.

The other Blades are fine, nice even, but there’s a significant age gap between them and Keith, and most of them are pretty stoic. Keith is a serious guy, but even he needs to unwind sometimes. Earlier that week Keith had tried to make a joke and was met with a number of unnerving, masked looks.

It’s a weird sort of loneliness, Keith has found. He’s pretty well acquainted with the feeling. He’s felt lonely in all possible ways. He had felt it as a child sitting quietly in front of the television, wondering when his dad would come home, and he had felt it in a house surrounded by other kids, thinking about his mom, and what he could have done differently. He had felt it in the desert, eyes up towards the stars, thinking it was the worst pain that was possible to feel.

This type of lonely, though, this one is new. He thinks maybe it’s because it’s self-imposed. He chose to go with the Blades of his own volition. There was no disappearance or expulsion that resulted in this. Keith had seen an opportunity and taken it.

Or maybe it’s because he doesn’t fit in. There’s nothing he can do to fit in. He’s shorter, younger, pinker. The Blades rarely deactivate their masks, but Keith feels their judgmental eyes all the same. Sometimes it makes him angry, that infamous temper out in full force. “I’m like you!” he screams in his head. “I’m Galra too!” Because there are a ton of other Blades who are only part Galra,who have tails and scales and spikes.

But Keith was born with two arms and two legs, ten fingers and ten toes. His skin is pale and getting paler each day he spends in space, and his hair is darker than even the darkest Galra purple. He occasionally spends time staring at himself in the front-facing camera of Lance’s phone, examining the bluntness if his teeth, the whites of his eyes. He doesn't belong here.

So sometimes, he feels angry, yeah. Who wouldn't? Most days, though, he doesn’t feel anything. He’s too tired.

And that’s why Keith had retired to his bunk early, scrolling idly through Lance’s phone. Before, Keith had felt a little weird about it. He never got around to deleting anything off of the phone. He doesn’t take pictures often, only occasionally sending Lance pictures of whatever weird stuff he brings back from different planets. Lance will usually respond in kind. Sometimes, Lance will send Keith pictures of him and the other paladins messing around. Keith saves those.

Lance had left a ton of pictures on the phone, and after a few months of constant texting with him, Keith had felt it would be okay for him to look at them. It _is_ technically Keith’s phone, though he doesn't really like to think of it that way.

Lance had taken a _lot_ of pictures. There is a whole folder of selfies, Lance cheesing it up in front of some exotic scenery, or duck-facing with some strange, beautiful alien. Keith had rolled his eyes when he first saw them, but now he kinda likes them. He thinks sometimes that Lance’s is the only smile he sees nowadays. It’s comforting.

Of course, there are also a ton of the rest of Team Voltron, and those are mostly pretty funny. There are pictures of Pidge with some truly monstrous bedhead, glaring so hard at the camera that Keith is surprised the lens didn't crack. Lance seemed to have a thing for taking candid pictures of Shiro and only saving the worst looking ones in a folder called _“pobody’s nerfect.”_ Sometimes, Keith thinks about that folder and has to physically stop himself from laughing out loud.

There’s a gallery of Lance and Allura selfies that are _gorgeous_ , the two of them giving the camera their sultriest looks, their sparkliest eyes. Keith can barely look directly at those pictures. Allura really is abnormally pretty, but Keith’s eyes always are inevitably drawn to Lance. He can just imagine Lance taking a picture and wailing in despair when he saw it. “I know I say this a lot, Allura,” he would say, brows furrowed, “but you’re truly, unfairly beautiful. Look at me, I look like a troll next to you!”

Of course, there are countless pictures of Hunk. Hunk in the sunlight of some extraterrestrial marketplace, smiling and posing with vegetables. Hunk in the kitchen of the castleship, pointing a knife threateningly at Lance. Lance and Hunk, sitting on the couch in the lounge, Hunk drooling on Lance’s shoulder as he sleeps. There are so many pictures of Hunk that Keith hasn't even seen all of them, he’s just started skipping over them.

And Keith can admit, now, after months of snooping through the phone and spending long, lonely nights missing his friends, that he’s a little bit jealous. There are next to no pictures of him. The ones that have him are group pictures, or he’s standing off in the distance, always alone.

Sometimes he entertains himself by thinking that, if he goes back ( _When_. _When_ he goes _home_ ), he’s going to ask Lance to take a selfie with him. He thinks Lance will think he’s being funny, but he’ll mean it. He’ll make Lance take it, because Lance seems to know the secret to taking nice pictures of yourself.

Keith has tried to, bored at night and messing around on the phone, but there’s always something wrong with the pictures he takes. He doesn’t like how he looks in the dim, lavender light of the base. He looks pale, and his eyes are sunken in and dark.

He’s going to ask Lance to take a selfie with him. He feels stupidly excited at the idea. Maybe they can fit the whole team in. Maybe he’ll make it his lockscreen picture? Friends do that, right? Though Keith is reluctant to part with the current one of Lance and his niece and nephew.

He’s pretty sure that’s who those kids are. If you go far back enough in Lance’s photos, they’re everywhere, along with the rest of Lance’s family. There are pictures taken at countless birthday parties and holidays. There’s a ton of all of them at Disney World, a collection of vaguely Lance-like people wearing Mickey ears. There are videos too, of Lance dancing with a woman who must be his mom in a cluttered kitchen, and of Lance attempting to give both of his brother’s kids a piggyback ride at once. There’s a video of a younger, skinnier Lance sat in front of a huge birthday cake and surrounded by people, blushing and laughing as they sing to him.

Keith tries to avoid watching those, out of respect for Lance’s privacy. But sometimes he just feels so _alone_ here, and seeing them warms him up from the inside. Keith never had that life, he doesn't know what it’s like. He kind of wants to.

The text from Lance comes in, and Keith is so startled by the vibration that he drops the phone on his face. He looks around, embarrassed, until he realizes that he’s alone in his room.

“Yeah. Why?” he texts back.

 **Lance:** oh cool do u have a computer

Keith answers positively, and Lance instructs him to plug his phone into it. Curious, Keith does, and about fifteen seconds later he’s greeted with Pidge’s silly little cartoon face on his computer screen, a sure sign that she’s hacking something.

There’s a possibility that he’ll get in trouble for this, that in the morning he’ll get a summons from Gransa, who is pretty much the equivalent of an IT guy for the Blades. But the bright, happy blue of the screen is the lightest thing he’s seen in days, and he’s smiling down at it when it blinks away and in its place is Lance and Pidge.

“Oh my god, Keith!” Lance cries out happily. At the same time, Pidge punches him in the shoulder and says “I _told_ you I could do it.”

Keith goggles at the screen, mouth opening and closing. “What? Guys?” he says, stupidly. “What—what is this?”

“Space Facetime!” Lance cheers happily, crowding the camera. “Spacetime!”

Pidge pushes him away, moving closer until her face takes up the whole screen. “So Lance has been _insufferable_ —”

“Hey!”

“—and he kept bothering me about how all he could do is text you, since I didn't really have the time to fuck around with your cell phones before you _abandoned_ us—”

“What? Pidge!”

“So we asked Allura to ask Kolivan if we could set up some sort of communications system between us? But of course he said no, because,” she sits up straight, furrowing her brows and speaking in a comically deep voice, “‘When training to become a Blade, one must become completely invisible.’ Or something like that.” She shrugs, then drops her elbow on the desk in front of her, head resting on her hand. “So Lance was all sad—”

“I wasn’t!”

“And I was like, no, that’s not fair, because his purple ass is _always_ comming us for help, but we can’t talk to our friend? No! So,” she waves a hand around vaguely, looking smug. “I decided to make a system myself.”

“Also, I told her that she couldn't do it, and she got mad and had to prove me wrong,” Lance says, trying twist around Pidge to get in view of the camera. “Pidge, stop hogging Keith!”

“You’ve been hogging him for months!”

“That’s text, it’s different.”

The two of them continue to bicker, trying to push each other off of the chair in front of Pidge’s screen. Keith just watches them, still in shock. They're out of uniform, wearing their Earth clothes, and just looking at them is comforting. The castleship just looks so _bright_. It’s hurting Keith’s eyes a bit, but he doesn’t look away.

“Look, why don't you go get the others so you can show them what a big dumb genius you are?” Lance says, sitting at the edge of Pidge’s chair and slowly but steadily scooting until Pidge has no choice but to stand up. “Get Shiro. And Hunk. And Matt! You can introduce him to Keith.”

Pidge’s eyes widen with excitement, obviously still ecstatic about finding her brother, and she instantly moves to leave.

“Wait!” Keith bursts out. “Allura and Coran, too. Please. Can I see everyone?”

Lance turns to look at Keith, a soft expression on his face that Keith hopes isn't pity. Keith chose this, after all. “Of course,” Lance says, and pushes at Pidge’s shoulders. “Go round everyone up, we’ll be here.”

Pidge rolls her eyes. “Okay, okay. But when we come back you don't get to hog him anymore. We _all_ miss Keith.”

“Ugh, whatever, just _go_ ,” Lance says, before turning back to Keith. He rolls his eyes at Keith, shrugging. “So, how’re things?” he asks.

Keith looks around at his dark, empty room. “They're fine,” he says. “It’s my night off, so I decided to turn in early. I’m set for a mission in the morning, though.”

“Ooh, a _mission_ ,” Lance says. “I remember when we went on those. Can you say what it is, or is it super secret spy stuff?”

Keith shrugs. “All I know is it’s a stealth mission. Kolivan kind of keeps that stuff secret until we’re there.” He winces. “I’m not...exactly...too good at the stealth thing yet.”

“What? _No_ ,” Lance says, teasing. “You? Bad at sneaking? Never.” He drops his head on both of his hands, elbows resting on the table. “Remember when you found all that quintessence and were like, ‘hey guys...I’m gonna touch it.’”

Keith laughs. “That was a good find!” he says, and they're off. They reminisce of past missions where Keith decided the best course of action was “Stab first, ask questions later.” Lance tells Keith all about their “Voltron Shows,” and Keith laughs so hard he almost chokes.

They must have all been spread around the castle, because it takes a while for the others to wander in. Keith is still laughing when they do, face down on his desk as Lance impersonates Allura impersonating Keith.

“I’ll have you know that, aside from Shiro, ‘Keith’ is the galaxy’s most beloved character,” Allura says, and when Keith looks up there they all are, crowded around Lance.

“That is a bald-faced lie, princess, and you know it,” Lance says. “I’m the second favorite. My ribbon routine is _amazing_.”

“Oh my god, who cares,” Pidge says, and then she pulls a taller, broader Pidge into view of the camera. “Keith! Look!”

Matt waves sheepishly, grinning.

Introductions are made, and Keith is smiling so much his face hurts. Matt and Pidge are so comfortable with each other, even after all this time. They talk a mile a minute and finish each other's sentences.

There’s a lot of pushing and shoving to see Keith on the small screen of Pidge’s computer. Hunk rests directly behind Lance, arms down over Lance’s shoulders with his chin on Lance’s head. He cries when he gets to talk to Keith, wiping his face on Lance’s hair while Lance grimaces and pats his shoulder comfortingly.

“Dude, did Lance tell you? I figured out milkshakes!” he says, excitedly hugging Lance’s head and essentially placing Lance in a chokehold. “And I’m _this close_ to cheese. When you come back we’re gonna have a nacho party.”

“Dude,” Lance says, wriggling out of Hunk’s grip. “Keith’s lactose intolerant. He can’t have any of that!”

Hunk gasps, actually covering his mouth in shock. “What? Dude, you never told me!” He turns back to Keith. “Keith, buddy, I’m gonna find you some kind of dairy substitute, I swear. You don't mess with that stuff. I’m making it my new mission.”

“You really don’t—”

“I _do!”_

When Keith talks to Allura and Coran, it’s a little awkward. He gets along fine with Allura, and their conversation is pleasant, if a little formal. But Coran is acting weird. He’s jittery, and speaking in a weird accent. He keeps trying to convince Keith to come back, but only to be in the Voltron show. It’s uncomfortable, and Allura is quick to end Keith’s suffering, pulling Coran away from the screen.

“What’s up with him?” Keith asks, once they leave the room.

Lance rolls his eyes. “Show Business,” he says, and it’s meant to be a joke, but there’s something dark in his expression, like he’s serious. “He’s been acting _weird_. Maybe it’s an old person thing.”

Keith just shrugs, and Lance clears his throat. “Anyway,” he says. “I think it's high time I quit hogging you—to quote Pidge—because there’s someone you should probably talk to.”

Then, he leaves the view of the camera, and when he comes back he’s pushing Shiro in front of him, hands at the small of Shiro’s back. Shiro looks awkward as Lance plants him in the chair, but Lance looks proud of himself.

“You two need to have some bro-time,” Lance says decidedly. “I’m gonna bounce, so you can talk. If you need to, you know how to reach me.” He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a phone, almost identical to Keith’s if not for the deep red color. “Facetime is connected to your phone too, now, so you don't have to use your computer after this if you don't want to. I’ll talk to you later, Keith!”

“Yeah,” Keith says, a little nervous at the thought of being alone—figuratively— with Shiro. And, admittedly, a little upset about Lance’s abrupt departure. “I’ll text you?”

“For sure,” Lance says, then gives both him and Shiro a very pointed look. “Now, _talk_.” Then he’s gone.

The sudden silence is stifling, the hum of the Marmora ship around Keith suddenly loud and overwhelming. Shiro clears his throat, looking at the screen but not at Keith.

Before Keith left, things with Shiro had been...strained, to say the least. It must have been pretty obvious, for Lance to have noticed. First, there was the whole co-leading thing, which was a mistake. Keith has never been known for his listening skills, and has had a lifelong struggle with authority figures. Just when it had seemed like he had gotten sort of used to the idea of leading, Shiro was back and acting as though nothing had changed. And then there was all the conflict with Keith’s Blade training, and missing out on Voltron missions, and things were just...wrong.

Not that Keith wasn’t happy to have Shiro back, of course not. Not having Shiro there, losing him _again_ , had broken Keith. Even now, under all the awkward feeling, seeing Shiro’s kind face rendered in pixels on Keith’s computer screen settles something inside of him.

Shiro is the first home he had, and seeing him strong and healthy is enough to comfort Keith. It’s enough to lift him above the sludge that Keith’s mental state has become since leaving Voltron, to pull Keith’s head above dark water. He can breathe.

“Um,” Keith says. “Hey, Shiro.”

“Hey Keith,” Shiro says. “How are you?”

“Fine. You?”

“I’m good. So, uh, the Blade have you training a lot?”

“All day every day.”

“I bet you love that.”

“It’s...fine. I’m good at it.” Keith scrubs a hand through his hair, feeling weirdly vulnerable. He wants to activate his mask, to pull back into the shadows of his room like Kolivan has been trying so hard to teach him to do. “So...Voltron shows?”

“Ugh, they're awful. Coran’s been acting so weird.” He laughs. “He keeps talking about how attractive people think I am, it’s the worst. I feel like an object.”

Keith laughs, the noise loud in his quiet room. “What, you’re uncomfortable with an entire galaxy thirsting after you?”

“I don’t even fit into most of their species’ societal ideas of what attractive _is_!” Shiro whines, rubbing his hands down his face. “Keith, there are _groupies_.”

“I’m _so_ glad I don't have to deal with that,” Keith says, only lying a little bit.

“Yeah, I know. You’re an action guy, you’re not happy unless there’s something around to stab. I get it.” Shiro sits back in the chair, crossing his arms. “And this is important, I know it is, but it does feel...well, stupid.”

“You think?”

“Shut up, you,” Shiro says, rolling his eyes. “It is getting a bit much, though. Coran takes it too far, sometimes. I don’t like how he portrays Hunk in the show _at all_ , he gets treated like a joke. But Coran won’t listen to me.”

“Huh,” Keith says, frowning. “Lance hasn’t said anything about that to me.”

“Probably because it pisses him off like nothing else,” Shiro says, leaning forward to rest his head on his crossed arms. Shiro only ever relaxes like this with Keith. Keith wonders how the others would react to hearing Shiro curse. “He’s been...talking to me. A lot. It’s kind of awkward. He takes the right hand man thing seriously.”

“Yeah,” Keith says stiffly, swallowing down the bitter jealousy that rises up his throat. He’s not even exactly sure who he’s jealous of. “He does.”

Shiro eyes him curiously, rising up to rest his chin on his hand. A small smile curls his lips. “So...Lance.”

Keith frowns. “Lance what?”

“You know. _Lance_.”

“I don't know what you’re talking about.”

“You two text each other quite a bit.”

“I guess.”

“And...he got you Space Facetime.”

“He was being nice.”

“He missed you.”

“I missed him too. I miss _all_ of you.”

“Sure,” Shiro says, and there’s a look in his eye that Keith hasn’t seen since they were at the Garrison and Shiro would tease him about the number of girls that fawned all over him, and then about the boys once he got to know Keith better. “But you miss him _the most_.”

Keith groans, looking up at the ceiling. “Whatever you say, Shiro.”

Shiro laughs, but his it dies out quickly. He sits up. “You know, I mentioned how Lance has been talking to me more, and he’s told me something that has me concerned.”

“What is it?”

Shiro doesn’t say anything for a moment, just looks at Keith with a contemplative look on his face, like he’s studying Keith’s reaction. “He said that he thinks you’re sad. He thinks you aren’t happy with the Blades. He’s worried.”

Keith doesn’t say anything for a while, leaning back and examining the dark metal ceiling of his room. He’s spent many sleepless nights staring at it, counting the panels and imagining it falling down and crushing him.

“Yeah, well,” Keith says, looking back at the screen with a serious expression. “It’s not about me. Tell everyone I said goodnight, will you? I have a mission in the morning.”

 

***

_Text Log — Stardate 06282347:1823_

**Lance:** keith. buddy.

 **Lance:** u missed

 **Lance:** the WILDEST shit

 **Keith:**?

 **Lance:** hold on. can u FT?

 **Lance:** it's kind of a lot to txt

 **Keith:** Yeah, give me a bit. I’m at dinner.

 **Keith:** What’s this about? Is it serious? Or did Hunk snort a noodle and eat it again.

 **Lance:** 1\. that was amazing fuck u

 **Lance:** 2\. its legit and it has to do w lotor

 **Lance:** AND ZARKON

 **Keith:** I’m calling you now.

***

_Text Log — Stardate 07042347:1223_

**Lance:** happy 4th of july!!!!!! god bless america land of the free home of the brave oh SAY CAN U SEEEEEEE

 **Lance:** hunks trying to make an apple pie without having any actual apples and i think it's sending him into a crisis

 **Lance:** i tried to tell him “hunk, my dude, my main man. we dont have eggs or butter or flour or ANY of the other shit that goes into an apple pie”

 **Lance:** and now im banned from the kitchen for being negative but it’s okay bc the holts are trying to figure out fireworks

 **Lance:** i'm gonna see how long it takes them to burn their eyebrows off

 **Lance:** i hope the BoM guys are at LEAST bbqing so u don’t miss out on any Important American Tradition

 **Keith:** Lance, lunch in the mess today was pureed Gorstanzan worm. Cold.

 **Keith:** If Zarkon himself offered me anything like an apple pie there would be a Keith-shaped cloud in my wake.

 **Keith:** Next time you’d see me I’d be on the other side of the battlefield. I’d be the one dyed purple and surrounded by soldiers three feet taller than me.

 **Keith:** But I would never have to eat Gorstanzan worm ever again so vrepit sa, motherfucker.

 **Lance:** HAHAHHSHAHHAHAHAHAHAH

 **Lance:** keith i am honestly worried for ur health right now but that's the funniest shit ive ever heard in my goddamned life

 **Lance** : ill make sure hunk figures it out to make when u come back

 **Keith:** Thanks, Lance.

 **Lance:** no problem, bud

 **Lance:** i mean ur ALREADY 3 feet shorter than everyone u meet so i wouldn't want u making it worse

 **Keith:** Fuck you.

***

_Text Log — Stardate 07122347:1657_

**Keith:** [file:attached “wtf_is_this.jpeg”]

 **Lance:** :O !!!!!

 **Lance:** is that a legit RED PALADIN ACTION FIGURE??

 **Lance:** dude those are SO RARE!

 **Lance:** omg the helmet even comes off look at ur little face

 **Keith:** WHY IS IT ME

 **Lance:** ur really popular

 **Keith:** I’M NOT EVEN THE RED PALADIN ANYMORE.

 **Keith:** I don’t understand I’m not even on the team?

 **Lance:** whoa whoa hey man ur SO on the team

 **Lance:** idc that u run around in purple spandex ur red paladin FOREVER

 **Lance:** nothing's gonna change that!!

 **Keith:** …

 **Keith:** Okay.

 **Keith:** Thanks

 **Lance:** so…

 **Lance:** was that the only one u got?

 **Keith:** I may have gotten...the whole set

 **Lance:** lmao i knew it

***

 

Keith feels the sting of a blaster shot graze the apple of his cheek, first cold, and then burning hot.

He curses, ducking his head and fighting the urge to look back as he runs, runs, runs. The air around him is lit up, lasers lighting the hallway like the flashing of cameras. He feels another graze his shoulder, his thigh, his waist. The sentries are lousy shots, but given enough time and luck they can get a hit in.

There’s a flash of pain on the small of his back, unbearable for one blinding, awful second. He pushes through it. Stopping is not an option.

Keith dashes through a doorway and enters a wide, looming hangar. He skids to a stop and throws himself behind some crates, just as the first shots come in.

He takes huge, gulping breaths. It feels like his ribs are cracking with every one, the chestplate of his armor constricting around him. He can’t feel the sting of his wounds, but he knows it’s only a matter of time before the adrenaline fades.

He reaches behind him and lets his hand hover above the wound in his back. The air above it feels hot. He’s too scared to touch it, to try and assess the damage. The graze on his face oozes blood, hot and sticky, and he wishes he could deactivate his mask to wipe it away.

He has fifty ticks before his team leaves. They’re waiting for him at the extraction point, which is clear across the ship from where he is.

He lets himself panic for a moment, lungs struggling to take in air. Shots have started bombarding the crates behind him. There are three Galra fighters in the hangar with him, but he can’t take one. If he did, he would be followed, and no one can know the whereabouts of the Blade of Marmora base. He could be killed for even considering it.

For a second, he lets himself wish for the red lion. How many times had Red pulled him out of a sticky situation? She flew across galaxies for him, stood brave in the face of Zarkon. He misses her. He misses her so much, has missed her for a long time.

It’s thirty ticks now, and they’ll leave without him. His old team wouldn’t do that. They would do everything they possibly could to make sure everyone got out of here alive. Pidge would program some sort of computer virus and shut the sentries down. Hunk would have already hijacked a fighter. Lance would have a plan, something clever to distract the enemy. Shiro would probably carry him bodily through the ship, fighting all the way. All for one and one for all. No man left behind. His team wouldn't do this.

But they aren’t his team, not anymore. There’s no one to pull Keith out of this but himself.

He stands and activates his knife. Twenty-five ticks.

 

***

_Text Log — Stardate 07282347:2337_

**Keith:** Hey, Lance. I’m sorry I know I’m almost late but happy birthday, man.

 **Keith:** You have no idea how much you’ve helped me over the last five months.

 **Keith:** You’re amazing.

 **Keith:** I hope you had a great day.

 **Keith:** :)

***

_Text Log — Stardate 07292347:0025_

**Lance:** thanks keith

 **Lance:** i know it's late but can u ft?

***

 

Keith shouldn't, for a lot of reasons.

The most prominent is that he’s got somewhere to be in the morning. Another mission, after he had just gotten back from the last one. They’re getting longer the better Keith gets, and he’s improving a lot, if Kolivan is to be believed.

The praise used to be a point of pride for Keith, and in a way it still is, but these days he feels stretched thin. He’s finally making a place for himself here, but all he can think about is how tired he is, how much his body aches, how he had almost missed Lance’s birthday because he spent the day crawling around the vents of a Galra cruiser.

Keith knows he shouldn't accept Lance’s request to talk, because at this point of Keith’s Marmora training the difference between life and death can be as little as a few missed hours of sleep. A lack of focus can lead to lives lost. He knows that all too well. Sometimes he thinks members of the Blade of Marmora are a little _too_ eager to die.

The other reason Keith thinks he probably shouldn't talk to Lance is that Keith just...isn’t feeling up to it. He knows it’s selfish, that it’s been awhile since he spoke to Lance outside of texts, but everything about Keith is tired.

Physically and mentally, Keith is feeling frayed. He works long days and nights, always in danger of dying, always alone. He thinks about having to talk and be cheerful for Lance, and the idea is exhausting. There are days now where Keith just doesn’t talk at all. He thinks maybe he forgot how.

And, this is embarrassing, but he doesn’t really want Lance to see him like this. He’s taken to avoiding mirrors (not that there are many on base), because he can’t stand the grim person he sees.

He’s so pale, and his eyes are so dark, he shines monochrome in the darkness like some kind of spectre or ghost. Keith has never been the kind of person who cares about his appearance, but he just looks wrong.

He eats and he sleeps, and he can feel himself becoming stronger, and more confident. He knows he’s doing the right thing, but it’s almost like his body is changing without his permission. Doing what he does and seeing what he sees, sometimes he feels almost as though he’s becoming something monstrous, like his Galra blood is bubbling up under his skin, warping him from the inside out.

Thinking about Lance—tan, beautiful Lance, who shines in the light of the castleship, bright blue eyes and bright blue armor—seeing him like _this,_ it’s too much to consider. Keith doesn’t want him to see.

But it’s Lance’s birthday, and Keith finds it hard to deny Lance anything these days. He can talk to him for a bit.

“Sure, I can talk,” he types back. “But can it be a normal call, not FT? It’s passed lights out here.”

His response is an incoming voice call.

“Keith? Hello?” Lance says, once Keith has the phone pressed to his ear. “You there?”

Lance is speaking low, it’s late for him as well, but his voice is loud in Keith’s ear like he’s whispering directly into it. The closeness sends a shiver down Keith’s spine. This may be worse than facetime would have been.

“Yeah,” he says, voice rough. He turns over to lie on his back. “I’m here.”

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Keith says. “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks, man.”

Lance is being weirdly reluctant to talk. The last time they had facetimed, Lance had talked basically the entire time. Keith doesn’t know how to maintain a conversation like he does.

“So,” Keith says awkwardly, “did you have a big, wild party on some strange planet with a ton of beautiful, alien babes?”

Lance snorts, the sound loud over the phone connection. “Naw,” he says, “I just kind of kept it lowkey. I told the others I didn't want to do anything.”

Keith’s brow furrows as he chews on that information for a second. Lance doesn’t do anything lowkey. He has always insisted they properly celebrate all of the team birthdays, keeping track of when they all are (and making up dates for Coran and Allura when it was revealed that Alteans don’t celebrate theirs).

For Pidge’s birthday, he had arranged a trip to an asteroid that was essentially a giant scrapheap and given her the opportunity to loot it to her heart's content. The rest of them had been designated pack mules, carrying huge pieces of broken machinery back and forth into the castleship. For Shiro’s birthday, he had a planned day of mandatory relaxation, complete with a spa component. Hunk’s birthday had an entire week of planned events, because “eighteen is important.”

“I thought eighteen was important,” Keith says, after probably too long a moment.

“Yeah, I mean,” Lance says. “I didn’t really care so...I just...didn’t remind them.”

Keith is fully frowning now, pushing himself up to rest against the wall by his bed. “What, they didn’t _remember_?”

“No, it’s not like that. You know I’m designated Birthday President. I just didn’t want to do anything so I didn’t.”

“But they didn’t remember.”

“They’re busy,” Lance says. “We don’t exactly have the time or brainspace for stuff like that.”

“ _I_ remembered,” Keith says, starting to feel angry. “I’m not even _there.”_

“Yeah, and thank you for that,” Lance says, sounding frustrated. “I just...I really didn’t want to do anything.”

Keith thinks of all of the team birthdays that have come and gone, and Lance saying “Eighteen is important!” as he presented Hunk with yet another gift. He thinks of the digital calendar Lance set up and sent to everyone’s personal computers, each birthday marked with the person’s corresponding lion or armor color. He thinks of the video on his phone, and Lance, skinny as a beanpole, blowing out his candles. The way his mom and dad hug him afterwards, and how he smiles so big his eyes almost close.

“Is that really why you didn’t tell them?” Keith asks, carefully. “Or is it...something else?”

Lance huffs. “No it’s just...I really didn't want to...I just don't see the point!” His voice cracks on the last word, and Keith can hear him take a deep breath. “Everyone is so busy, and I just don’t see the point of celebrating without...without the people I really want to be here. You know?” He groans. “Fuck, that sounds awful. I mean—”

“No, I get it,” Keith interrupts, still thinking of the video. He doesn’t really, but he might have an idea. “I do, it’s just...you don’t _really_ think the others are too busy that they wouldn't do something for your birthday, right? Even if it’s small, they won’t care to stop and—”

“No!” Lance says, louder than before. “No, I—I couldn't do that. The way things are going, right now, it would be stupid—”

“It wouldn't be and it’s not,” Keith says, stern. “Lance, you’re not—you’re not _less important_ than the mission.”

“Okay, except I am.”

“No, you’re not.”

“What do _you_ know?” Lance snaps. “You _left_.”

Keith winces, and the silence draws out between them, long and awkward. Then, “Fuck. Fuck, Keith, I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

“It’s fine,” Keith says, quickly.

“It’s _not_ ,” Lance says, and his voice wobbles in a way that has Keith internally panicking. He wishes he knew what to do in this type of situation. He wishes he were someone else.He wishes he were there, with Lance. “It’s not, it's just. You don’t know what it’s _like_ here now.”

“Then tell me,” Keith says. Lance likes to talk, to work through his problems verbally. Keith can be his sounding board, if that's what he needs. “Explain it to me.”

“It’s just—I don’t feel like I’m _needed_ , here,” Lance says, after a long moment of Keith waiting patiently. “I know, they need me for Voltron, they need someone to fly Red, but that’s _all I do_.”

“What else do you need to do?” Keith says. “That sounds pretty important to me.”

“It is, it’s just—” Lance huffs again, frustrated. “Pidge and Hunk, they're amazing, right? They always have been, but ever since Matt got here they’ve been like, _double_ amazing. All of them. They're working all the time and doing some pretty awesome things and making these awesome inventions. I can’t do anything like that.” He laughs bitterly. “I bring them _food._ That’s all I can do, because Hunk can’t even get around to cooking, lately. He’s too busy being part of the Holt-Garrett Genius Dream Team. I’m like, their _waiter._ Or nanny. Or something.”

“And Allura?” he snorts. “ _Me_ trying to help Coran or Allura is a _joke._ We get along a lot better now, since we both connected with Blue, but everything she does is way over my head. I feel like I’ll just mess everything up.”

“And Shiro? I, uh, I—” Lance groans, and his voice is muffled, like he probably buried his face in something. Probably his pillow.

“What about Shiro?” Keith asks, tentatively, after a moment has passed.

“He doesn’t _need_ me,” Lance says. “As a right hand man. He’s—It’s awkward. It’s not like—”

 _It’s not like me,_ Keith thinks. “Oh,” Keith says softly. He slides down the wall to curl up on his side, staring at the smooth wall of his bunk.

“I’m not saying that you needed someone to hold your hand,” Lance says. “Though, sometimes you did. It’s just...We _worked_ together. You needed someone to help keep you grounded, and I needed to feel useful, and we did that for each other.” He pauses, and the silence is tense. “We were good together. Shiro has the leadership thing _down_ , what could I possibly bring to the table? I ask him if there’s anything he needs and he just brushes me off. He doesn’t listen to me.”

“Most days, when we’re not on missions or doing shows, I’m just...here,” Lance continues. “I hang around, play video games, text you. Sometimes I sit with Kaltenecker. I’m not contributing, I’m not helping. I’m nothing. I’m _useless._ ” He finishes with a deep breathe. “So that's why I didn’t remind them of my birthday.”

Keith knows now is the time to say something, but he needs to chew on this for a moment. He’s not... _good_ at this sort of thing. It’s why he was such a terrible leader. Lance has come to him with concerns like this before, and he just dismissed them like nothing. He should have done something then. If he had, then maybe Lance wouldn't be so miserable now.

“ _God_ ,” Lance chokes, “it’s my _birthday_ and this is how I’m acting.” He pauses, and when he speaks again his voice is broken, soft and sad. “It’s my birthday and all I want is to _go home_.”

There’s another long, stilted silence between them.

“Well,” Keith says after about a minute. “I don’t know about you, but this is the worst birthday party _I've_ ever been to.”

There’s a pause, long enough for Keith to think _“Oh no, I fucked up. I fucked up, I fucked up.”_ and then a sound like choking, and then laughter.

Lance laughs and laughs, and the tight band of anxiety around Keith’s chest loosens as he smiles helplessly at the wall of his room.

“Jesus,” Lance breathes, still kind of laughing. Keith can picture him wiping at tears in his eyes, his wide smile. “You’re a funny guy, you know that, Keith?”

Keith shrugs, then realizes Lance can’t see him. “Uh, I guess.”

“You been to a lot of birthday parties, then?”

Keith thinks. “I’ve been to one,” he says. “My foster mom’s kid. They made me come down for cake and one of his shithead friends puked on my shoes. So the fact that you managed to top that is really something.”

“I think staying up all night with the crying birthday boy is arguably better than puke shoes,” Lance says.

No, it isn’t, because Keith hadn’t cared about his foster mom’s son’s shithead friend like he cares about Lance, who is who knows how far away and alone and sad. “That’s your opinion,” Keith says, and then steels himself and gets up, pacing the length of his room.

“Okay,” he says, voice determined. “First thing: you’re not nothing. Don’t ever let me hear you say that again or I’m going to hop on a ship to fly over there and kick your ass, you hear me?”

He doesn’t let Lance answer.

“You’re not nothing, and you’re not a waiter or a nanny, and you’re not useless. You’re Lance, you’re the blue paladin, you fly the red lion. You made sure I didn’t lead the team head first into Hell. You make everyone laugh and feel better.” Keith takes a deep breath, stopping his pacing. He clenches a fist.

“You’re—you’re so _good_ , Lance. You’re always helping everyone. You came to me once and told me that you’re an ‘extra’ paladin, and that you should step down for the good of the team. You were _wrong_. I should have said it then, but I didn’t because I’m an idiot. That sort of thinking, that’s why you belong on the team.” He backpedals. “Not the self-deprecating shit, the team shit. You put the team first, always.”

“That’s why I left,” Keith says, starting up his pacing again and tangling the hand not holding his phone in his hair. “I wasn’t putting the team first. I _couldn't,_ and I know that’s not okay, but I felt like this was the right thing to do. I didn’t _want_ to leave, I wanted to stay with all of you, but this war is bigger than I am, and I knew that you would take care of them.”

Keith stops, trying and failing to pull his hand from his hair. God, it’s a fucking rats nest. That hood does him _no favors._ “I was able to leave because I trusted you, and...and I don’t know how that sounds, if that’s fucked up, but just _look_ at you guys! The coalition is so big now! Voltron is actually making a difference, and you’re a part of that.”

Keith groans, yanking his hand out of his hair to rub at the back of his neck. “Fuck, I got all turned around somewhere. I don’t even know what I’m saying. But the _point is_ —the _point_ is that you’re important, and that the team would fall apart without you.”

Lance stays silent on the other side of the connection, and Keith feels so nervous, like his heart’s coming up his throat and willing to throw itself to its death for Lance. “Shiro,” he starts. “Shiro gets caught up in...protocol, and what other people think the team should be. It’s a side effect of being the Garrison’s golden boy all those years. He’s going to try and meet the expectations of everyone he sees, and you need to make sure he knows that he has nothing to prove to anyone but himself.”

Keith takes a deep breath. “Don’t worry about Coran, or Allura, if it’s not about paladin stuff. They kind of do their own thing. And I’m sure Hunk and Pidge appreciate the food and...and _why aren’t you saying anything?_ ”

There’s a soft noise on Lance’s end, and then he clears his throat. “Well, I guess there’s something to that old song, huh? ‘It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to.’” His voice is wavering and wet-sounding.

“Okay…”

“It _is_ kind of fucked up that you’re putting you leaving onto me. What am I supposed to do with that? You left because I was _too_ good a friend?”

“Well, I just meant that—”

“No, stop,” Lance says, and his voice is a bit stronger now. “Stop saying nice things about me, man. It’s weird. Go back to making fun of my flight skills.”

“God, we’re such _dicks_ to each other.”

“Yeah, but it’s kind of like, our thing.”

“Yeah,” Keith says, scratching at his cheek and sitting back down on his bed. “About the...other thing you brought up. About going home. There’s—”

“Nope,” Lance interrupts again. “Nuh-uh. I just stopped crying. I shouldn’t have even—there’s nothing you or I or anyone can do about that. I just have to deal with it.”

Keith frowns, dropping backwards to lay on his bed, feet still planted on the ground. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean we can’t—”

“Nope!” Lance chirps.

Keith groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Okay, just. I’m here, okay? Talk to me, if you need to. It’s not like I’m doing anything outside of missions.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Keith,” Lance says. “And...thanks, so much. You don’t know how much you—how much this call means to me.” His voice is warm, and Keith feels his heart trying to escape again.

“It’s nothing,” Keith says. “You help me so much, Lance. You have no idea. It’s—being here—it’s a lot. Talking to you helps.”

There’s another silence after that, but a comfortable one, and then Lance says, “Holy shit, it’s 2 am.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Keith says. “I have to be at the pods in three vargas.”

“Oh, fuck, Keith, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s nothing. It’s your birthday.” Keith sighs. “I do have to go, though.”

“Yeah, of course,” Lance says. “Thanks again. I’ll...text you?”

“Yeah,” Keith sighs. It’s like all the exhaustion he felt earlier has slammed back into him. “Of course. Happy Birthday, Lance. Goodnight.”

“‘Night, Keith.”

The connection ends, and Keith takes a moment to just breathe, staring up at the ceiling. His eyelids are heavy, and his body still aches. He doesn’t regret the call though, and there’s still something he needs to do before he goes to sleep.

He gets up, dropping his phone on his bed as he makes his way towards the computer at his desk. Once he gets there, he painstakingly types in a comm code. Keith talks to Lance more often than the others, because of their phones, but on the occasion he calls one of the others, he has to use the computer. They’ve all decided it would be best if he only did this occasionally, and only for emergencies, because the Blade might be able to monitor these calls. Keith thinks this applies as a team emergency. He sits back and waits for the call to go through.

Pidge is awake, of course, hunched in front of her computer. The lenses of her glasses are lit up by the screen, eyes only visible when she turns to face him. “What—Keith?” she says, blinking hard.

“You fucked up,” Keith says, too tired for pleasantries. “You guys all fucked up and you need to fix it.”

“Well, that’s not ominous at all,” Pidge says, turning back to her programming. “What is it that we fucked up, exactly?”

“Look at the date.”

She rolls her eyes, the action reflected in her entire body, and pulls up her calendar. “What do you mean look at the—”

She stops, fingers paused on the keyboard.

“Yeah,” Keith says, voice hard. “Fix it.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Pidge says. Then, “I gotta wake up Hunk.”

She gets up out of her chair and scurries out of the room, not bothering to say goodbye. Keith nods, satisfied, before disconnecting the call and moving to collapse face-first on his bed.

 

***

_Text Log — Stardate 07292347:0915_

**Lance:** KEITH

 **Lance:** did u say something???

 **Lance:** keeeeeeeiiiiith

 **Lance:** what did u do!?

 **Lance:** ugh fine ur on a mission I GET IT.

 **Lance:** but thanks

***

_Text Log — Stardate 07302347:0101_

**Keith:** I have no idea what you’re talking about.

 **Keith:** :)

***

 

Keith catches a bit of a Voltron show at the tail end of a recon mission on the planet Xarxas.

It had gone off without a hitch, the datachip Keith used to extract the necessary information burning a hole in his pocket. He had ducked into a marketplace, snatching a ratty cloak off the rack of a booth cluttered with all manners of fabric and clothing (not without leaving a few hundred GACs in its place), and lost himself amongst the crowds. When he sees his (former) team, they're projected twenty feet tall on the side of an old building, a large group of people standing at the base and cheering.

Keith freezes, mentally calculating the doboshes he has before he’s set to meet a rebel contact at the rendezvous point. He has nearly a varga, and a quick look around shows he’s not being tailed. So he joins the crowd, eyes up to the projection.

It’s fucking hilarious, is what it is, and Keith has a hard time not blowing his cover and laughing his ass off. For some reason, all of them are shouting, aiming cardboard bayards at holograms. Every moment is concluded with a dramatic pose. Keith snorts so hard he chokes as Hunk punctuates his line (“You won’t get away with this, Galra scum!”) with a swift dab.

The Pinske man standing next to Keith eyes him disapprovingly as Keith laughs, so Keith does his best to stifle his giggling, biting his lip. Up on the screen, Allura flicks imaginary hair off her shoulder and cocks her hip, turning her nose up at the bi boh bi woman playing a Galra sentry.

“I’m _so_ over this,” she says, crossing her arms. She has a look on her face like she just smelled something nasty. She’s supposed to be _him._ Keith’s mouth drops open, offended.

“Let’s do this! It’s time for these Galra to know the _true_ power of Voltron!”

And there he is, sliding into the shot. Lance has his red bayard resting up against one shoulder, his other hand resting on his hip. Under the bright lights, Lance looks...sweaty, but radiant. The ends of his hair are curling in to frame his face, and the sheen of sweat on his cheeks is highlighting his cheekbones. Shiro goes on to recite some loud, obviously scripted speech, but Keith’s eyes continue to follow Lance as he takes position at Shiro’s side. Keith watches as Lance smiles over at Hunk, wide and silly, and mouths something that has Hunk breaking character and laughing into his shoulder. The angle changes, and Lance turns to look at the camera, blue eyes huge and sparkling.

He winks, and Keith is horrified to feel his heart skip a beat.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Keith says with feeling, eyes transfixed. Lance looks away, and his profile cuts a sharp figure against the background of screaming fans. Keith swallows, taking in the dusky blush that accentuates Lance’s cheeks, following a drop of sweat down the cut of Lance’s jaw and down his neck.

There’s a smattering of adoring squeals from the crowd around him, obvious fans of the dashing blue paladin, and Keith feels jealousy burn hot in the back of his throat. He wants them to stop looking at Lance because Keith knows they're looking at him in the same light as Keith. He wants to shut off the projection so they can’t look at Lance, but he doesn’t really, because Keith wants to keep looking at him.

It’s the stage makeup, he tells himself. It’s the lighting. It’s the bright, shiny paladin armor, and the...the _atmosphere_. He’s getting caught up in the hype.

But he knows it’s not any of that, because Lance looks ridiculous. He carefully counts his steps so he doesn't move out of position. He keeps shooting the camera these stupid, flirty looks. Keith feels bad thinking it, but he has no idea how these shows are working, because they're so fucking cringey.

But all the same, Keith drinks in Lance’s silly, lanky frame like a dying man in the desert. He can feel his heart beat wildly, flipping around in his chest like an Olympic gymnast. Keith feels the distance between them acutely, because it’s been so long since he’s seen that grin in full force. He wants to ruffle Lance’s carefully-styled messy hair and tug teasingly at the long strands at the edges of his face. He wants to poke and prod and bicker the way they always do. He just wants...to be there.

He wants more, too. He wants more than he has ever even really thought of since he left Earth. It’s embarrassing, really, because what he wants more than anything watching Lance on that screen is to kiss his stupid face.

On screen, the camera cuts from Lance to Shiro. “Form Voltron!” he hollers, voice cracking, and the team proceeds to form a sort of human pyramid. Keith would really like to see how this plays out, but he’s reaching the deadline on this mission, and if he spends any more time watching he’s going to lose himself thinking about how much he wants to hold Lance’s hand. Or nuzzle against the spot where his ear meets his neck. Or wrap an arm around his waist, pressing up against him all on one side.

So Keith does what Koganes do best, and he turns tail and leaves, snaking deftly through the crowd and away from any more uncomfortable realizations.

 

***

_Text Log — Stardate 08152347:1013_

**Lance:** listen im gonna tell u something

 **Lance:** what im going to tell u is 100% real and serious and true

 **Keith:** Um??

 **Keith:** Okay??

 **Keith:** Just spit it out.

 **Lance:** coran has been high on actual alien drugs

 **Lance:** for months now

 **Keith:** What the fuck.

 **Lance:** lol

 **Keith:** Explain.

 **Keith:** No really.

 **Keith:** Lance.

 **Keith:** You can’t just drop a bomb like that and leave!!

 **Keith:** LANCE

***

 

Keith wakes up in a panic.

There’s nothing in particular that triggers this. He didn’t have a nightmare, there was no loud noise that startled him into waking. He just woke up, realized that yes, he was still at the Blade of Marmora base, and stopped breathing.

In retrospect, this had probably a been a long time coming. He remembers what Allura had said, back when Keith had still been playing into the farce that he was the black paladin. The Blade of Marmora have been around for thousands of years, and the way things are going they just might keep going for thousands more.

Every day, it’s the same thing. Intelligence gathering, stakeouts on Galra cruisers, do not engage, you must be untraceable. What was it that Shiro had called him? An action guy. Keith feels like he hasn’t made a single dent in the Galra empire in six months. 

A “new strain of quintessence,” what a fucking joke. Keith isn’t too clear on what quintessence is, but he’s pretty sure it’s just...The Force, or the equivalent of it. Either you have it or you don’t. There’s no altering or adjusting it, only harvesting. Back in the beginning, he had thought it had something to do with Lotor. But from what Lance has told him, and what he’s heard when monitoring Galra radio frequencies, Lotor is MIA, persona non grata, and Keith is wasting his time.

Keith has never really been the kind of person who _needs_ people. He’d entered the Blades with his usual “I’m not here to make friends” mentality. But almost a year with team Voltron had changed him, and he feels lonelier than he’s been since his dad walked out and left him in that shack.

Knowledge or death, knowledge or death. Most likely death, if the body count on Keith’s missions are anything to be considered. Keith used to try and save his teammates, but he’s found now that it’s a lost fucking cause. Three people had died on the recon mission Keith had been on the day before. The data they’d pulled from the Galra ship had been trading routes, dates and times for food deliveries, waste disposal. But knowledge or death, I guess.

The Blades are untraceable, unknowable, invisible, and, evidently, expendable. Knowledge or death. This jargon’s been nailed directly into Keith’s brain for months. Keith needs to not exist, is actively encouraged to make that happen, and he can’t breathe.

Keith is scrambling for his phone and dialling before he knows it, pressing it to his ear as it starts to ring.

“Keith?” Lance’s voice comes over the connection, groggy and hoarse. It’s the middle of the night.

Keith relaxes minutely, still breathing harsh and loud in the darkness. He remembers when he thought being in the Blade of Marmora would teach him something about himself, about his mom and his heritage, and here he is now, rejoicing at the sound of someone saying his name.

“Keith, what’s happening? Are you okay?” Lance continues.

“Can’t breathe,” Keith chokes out, gruffly. “Can’t. I. I don’t—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Lance says, and Keith can hear the sound of sheets rustling. He can perfectly visualize Lance on the other side of the connection, with his hair messy and exceedingly comfortable in his blue lion pajamas. Keith hasn’t been comfortable for the better part of a year. He’s still wearing his uniform. “Is this an ‘I’ve been injured and need assistance’ call?”

Keith shakes his head. “No,” he wheezes. “I—”

“Okay,” Lance says. “Okay, okay, okay.I’m going to need you to breathe for me, okay. buddy? In and out, like usual.”

“I. _Can’t,”_ Keith snaps between breathes. The tips of his fingers are starting to feel cold and numb.

“Fuck, what is it that Hunk does?” Lance mutters, mostly to himself. “Okay, okay, Keith. You’re going to breathe with me. In three seconds, hold, out three seconds. You with me?”

Keith nods, twisting the hand not holding his phone into the sheets of his bed. It’s hard to hear Lance over the beating of his own heart. “Uh huh.”

“Okay, in—1, 2, 3…”

Lance breathes with him for who knows how long, Keith isn’t counting. He listens to Lance, fixating on his voice, and over time his hand unclenches, the tight muscles of his back loosen. Eventually, he’s able to take deep breathes unhindered, and the thick knot in his chest unravels.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “Fuck, I...I don’t know what that was, sorry.”

“You’re fine,” Lance says. “You’re completely fine. Was...Has that ever happened to you before?”

“No, I don’t think so?” Keith says. He smashes a palm of one hand across his face. It’s sticky with tears. “Not...Never that bad, before.”

“Okay,” Lance sighs. “Was there any particular reason…?”

“No. I don’t know.” Keith runs a shaking hand through his hair. “I guess just kind of...everything?”

“That's fair,” Lance says. “Do you want to talk about it, or?”

He probably should, but now that whatever that was is over, Keith is exhausted. He flops down on the bed, flat on his back. “No, not right now,” Keith says, because he knows Lance isn’t going to let this drop.

“Mmkay,” Lance says, starting to sound tired. “What do you want to do? Are you going to try and sleep again? Do you want me to go?”

Even in Keith’s tired state, the thought of being alone again hitches his breath. “No,” he says. “No. Can you just...stay on the line? You don’t have to talk just...be there.”

“Yeah, I can do that,” Lance says. “I can totally do that. You want me to sing? I can do a mean lullaby, just ask my niece and nephew.”

Keith snorts, turning on his side, phone still pressed to his ear. He’s ready to reject Lance’s offer, but he thinks about it. “Actually, I don’t think anyone has ever sang a lullaby to me before,” he says.

“Keith, that's just about the saddest thing ever anyone did say,” Lance says, voice slightly muffled. Keith tries to picture him, face half buried in his pillow, eyes closed even as he tries to stay up and help Keith. “I’ll do it tomorrow, I’m too tired for words.”

“That’s fine,” Keith says, and the tired muscles of his face twitch into something like a smile. “You’re fine. Thank you.”

“Mmhm,” Lance says, halfway gone. “G’night, Keith.”

“‘Night, Lance,” Keith says, settling under his blanket and never once moving the phone from his ear. Lance sighs deeply, the sound crackling over the connection, and Keith listens as his breathing evens out.

Because it’s late, and because Keith is tired, and his muscles feel loose and heavy, and in Keith’s ear it sounds like Lance is _right there,_ Keith lets himself dream that Lance _is_ there. Or that Keith is with Lance, solid and warm in Lance’s too-small bed. He dreams of pulling Lance close, pressing his nose to where Lance’s neck meets his shoulder. Keith dreams of Lance’s spiky hair tickling his face, of gripping tightly to the back of Lance’s pajama shirt. He dreams of what it would feel like to have Lance’s huffy breathes against his collarbone, to feel the vibrations of Lance’s happy sleep-sounds through his chest.

When he wakes up, the call has disconnected and he’s alone. He gets out of bed to prepare for his next mission.

 

***

_Text Log — Stardate 09162347:1233_

**Lance:** hey man

 **Lance:** i don't want to make this weird or anything

 **Lance:** but i am just the tiniest bit worried about last night like. u had a panic attack. u know that right?

 **Lance:** and i don't want to overstep or nag u about it, but that's not exactly a sign of a healthy mindset and style of living

 **Lance:** u said u didn't want to talk about it so i'm not gonna push

 **Lance:** but i'm worried about u man

 **Lance:** ugh of course ur on a mission

 **Lance:** give me a call later, okay?

***

_Text Log — Stardate 09172347:0253_

**Keith:** Don’t be worried. I’m fine.

 **Keith:** But thank you.

 **Keith:** I’ll be on an extended mission starting tomorrow, so I won’t be around for a few days.

 **Keith:** I’ll call you when I get back.

***

 

The image on the screen shakes, a clattering sound ringing through the tiny speakers as Lance adjusts the phone in front of him. He’s sitting on the observation deck and it’s after lights out at the Castle of Lions, so he’s lit up in dim, blue light. Even over the subpar connection, he looks warm. Keith’s fingers itch to reach out and touch.

“So, looks like we’re going to see each other pretty soon, huh?” Lance says, reaching above his head in a stretch. He turns his head to the side and Keith hears a satisfying crack. “Hunk and Pidge are going to take the communication satellite in a few days.”

“Yeah,” Keith says. “How nervous is Hunk?”

“ _So_ nervous. I keep telling him he’s a total badass, but he won’t listen to me.” He pauses.“Wait, you _are_ gonna be on the mission with the Blades, right? Not some super, top-secret mission?”

Keith shakes his head. “No, I’ll be there. We’ll get that cannon up and running for you.”

“I never doubted you, buddy,” Lance says. He smiles down at Keith. “Hey, just think about it. Soon we’ll have liberated a _third_ of the Galra empire!”

Keith smiles back, swallowing his doubts. There’s nothing guaranteed yet, anything can go wrong. The cannon plan is risky, Keith knows they're going to lose a lot of soldiers.

And if their team—if _Keith_ —fucks up, then Voltron will be on their own. The fact that Voltron is attacking the base on Naxzela without backup leaves a bad taste in Keith’s mouth.

Keith eyes Lance on the screen, sinking further into his green jacket and yawning behind the palm of his hand. He doesn’t want to think of Lance, of _any_ of his old team going in by themselves. It’s been months, but Keith feels a tug of guilt in his stomach. He should be there, fighting with them. But he gave that up a long time ago.

“—And then, you can come home, right?” Lance says, and Keith snaps out of his daze.

“What?” he says, brow furrowing.

“I mean, once we take this galaxy, the rest will follow pretty quickly, right?” Lance gestures wildly. “And the coalition can only get bigger. We’re going to need all the help we can get.”

“Um, yeah, I guess,” Keith says. “What does that have to do with me coming back?”

Lance drops his arms into his lap. “Well, this leg of the mission will be over, and we’ll need you,” he says, and he almost looks shy. “I know you’re not the black or the red paladin anymore, but there’s plenty of stuff to do here for non-paladins. Matt’s here half the time, and sometimes Slav comes around to annoy Shiro, and even Rolo—”

“Lance.”

“—and Nyma are back. But don’t worry, I know better, I don’t even _look_ at her—”

“Lance, I’m not leaving the Blades,” Keith interrupts, and Lance closes his mouth.

“What? I mean—”

“I’m,” Keith closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can’t just leave. I’m...I’m an important member. I act as a liaison between the Blades and the coalition.”

“Yeah, because you’re a part of team Voltron.”

“Because I _used to be_ part of team Voltron,” Keith says. This is something that he’s accepted. Back in the beginning, Keith had fantasized about going back, going home. He told himself it was all temporary, that he’d train a bit, and learn more about himself, but when all was said and done he’d go back to the castle where he belonged.

Now, he knows it’s not that simple. Being a Blade means looking at the bigger picture, always.

“You’re still a part of Voltron.”

“Lance,” Keith says, and there’s something pleading in his voice that he hates. He runs a hand through his hair nervously. “It’s been almost nine months since I was on the team. I left.”

“So, what? You still fight the Galra empire, you’re still helping people. You’re still doing what Voltron has promised to do.” Lance’s brow has started furrowing, his eyes taking on that dark, angry look that Keith hasn’t seen in awhile. “Just because you—you wear a different _uniform_ doesn’t mean you’re off the team.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Keith says. “Look, even if we take Naxzela and get this solar system we’re nowhere near close to taking down the empire.”

“We’re taking _a third of it_ —”

“And there’s still two-thirds!” Keith snaps.”That’s still _millions_ of people under Zarkon’s control. That’s entire solar systems! We aren’t done!”

“I _know_ , it’s just—”

“No, you don’t. I need to stay here, with the Blades. I can make some real change here.”

“What, and Voltron isn’t?”

“No. I mean, not like—” Keith sighs, dropping his face in his hands. When he looks up, Lance is hunched further into his jacket, arms crossed across his chest like a line of defense. His mouth is turned down in an angry frown, but his eyes just look hurt. “Lance, what would I _do_ back at the castle?”

“There’s plenty you can do.”

“What can I do that would be actively fighting the Galra?” Keith says. “Not diplomacy, or supply runs, or strategy. Actual fighting. _Real_ missions. I don’t have a lion anymore. There’s no place for me. I don’t _fit.”_

“I don’t know how else to say it, you _belong here_ , Keith.” Lance digs the heel of his hand in his eye. “I don’t...I...Do you even _want_ to come back?”

The question shocks Keith into silence for a moment. “It’s not about what I want,” Keith says.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s a fucking _war,_ Lance!” Keith throws his hands in the air. “We go where we’re needed!”

“Oh, so the Blade of Marmora _needs_ you. The best fighter, the best pilot, the best—”

“No!” Keith gives in and yells. “I don’t know how to explain in a way that you’ll understand that this is bigger than me or you! People are dying, and being enslaved. _Entire planets._ And nothing’s going to change if we stop fighting because we’re _unhappy_.”

“Oh, so you’re admitting you’re unhappy, now?” Lance says, matching Keith’s volume. “Because I don’t know who you thought you were fooling before. Do you even look at yourself, Keith? You look awful. You look exhausted, and every time I see you you have a new wound or scar. You’re having panic attacks in the middle of the night, and you’re _not letting anyone help you._ ”

“And _so what_?” Keith yells. “Why can’t you get it through your head that that doesn’t matter?”

“Because it does,” Lance says. “Because how you feel matters, Keith. Because we only have one life to live, and we got roped into this war that has lasted ten _thousand_ years, and we’re probably going to die fighting it.”

“Do you think that Blue took us up into space and through that wormhole for us to die meaninglessly? Because, I’m sorry, Keith, but that seems to be the Blade’s thing. We were _taken_ from Earth because we were meant to be on this team, to fly these lions. Do you think it was _coincidence?_ Do you think the five of us were just convenient? Do you think that Blue would have taken anybody?” He swallows, rubbing his eyes with both hands. “We’re a family, all of us. We care about each other. Do you think that we...the team...me and you..Do you think that just _happens?”_

“What I _think_ is that I’m no better than any other soldier,” Keith says. He won’t look at the screen. He can’t take the glassiness of Lance’s eyes. “It could have been anyone, but it was us. It was me. I’m not going to throw away my opportunity to make some real change and help people.”

“I’m not _asking_ for that,” Lance says. One solitary tear escapes the trap of his eyelashes, and he’s quick to wipe it away. “All I’m asking is that you, for once, take yourself into consideration. I’m worried about you, man! I worry every day. I keep thinking that every time I get a stupid text from you, it’ll be the last. Please, Keith. After all of this, _come home.”_

Keith sighs, slumping back. The distance between them feels greater than it’s ever been. “I need to be ready for a mission in the morning,” he says. He’s so tired he can feel it in his bones. “I’ll talk to you later, Lance.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, just ends the call.

 

***

_Text Log — Stardate 10012347:0936_

**Lance:** keith, i’m sorry about how that went last night

 **Lance:** i didn’t want to condescend u or...idk belittle the bom or anything

 **Lance:** i just am worried about u and

 **Lance:** i miss u.

 **Lance:** and i care about u. like u dont know how much

 **Lance:** just. a lot.

 **Lance:** i think once this naxzela mission is over we need to talk

 **Lance:** we can do it in person even!!

 **Lance:** just...let me know i didn’t completely fuck everything up

***

_Text Log — Stardate 10032347:1634_

**Lance:** Keith?

***

 

What Keith can’t get over is how senseless it is.

He’s back in his room after two long, stressful days. He’d been out of focus and sloppy, mind still preoccupied with the fight he had with Lance the night before he left. Keith can’t afford to be this out of it, not with the Naxzela mission looming over them. Not with the lives of his fellow Blade members partially in his hands.

Thinking back on the fight, Keith alternates between being blindingly, unfairly angry at Lance for calling him out and internally wailing over how drastically he’s fucked everything up. He wants to talk to Lance. He wants to find the words to plead his case. He also wants to pretend that the fight never happened and continue on as normal. He knows which impulse is stronger.

And that’s why when he comes back to his room, he initially pays no attention to the cell phone sitting on his desk. He sees enough to notice he has notifications for several texts from Lance, and looks away. He steadily goes through the motions of what has become his life. He takes a shower and Doesn’t Think About It. He dries his hair and Doesn’t Think About It. He slips a fresh uniform undersuit on and Doesn’t Think About It (he does think about his old clothes, getting musty in his room at the castle, and being comfortable. He likes to think he remembers what that feels like).

Finally, after he’s done absolutely everything he has available to distract him, he picks uphis phone.

Then, he drops it.

The clatter it makes on the ground is loud and horrifying, the way dropping a phone always is. It lands hard on one corner, then flips a couple of times before lying face down on the floor of Keith’s room.

Keith scrambles for it on his hands and knees, muttering “please, please, please, please” as he goes. When he grabs it and attempts to turn it on, the screen stays black.

Keith freezes, then stands up. He scrutinizes the phone, eyes roaming over it frantically. He can barely fucking see in the fucking purple light of this room, so he retreats to his bathroom where it’s brighter.

There’s a crack all the way through, from the top right corner to the bottom left. He presses the button again. And then about fifteen more times. There’s a creeping dread crawling up his throat, cold and painful. His hands are shaking.

He moves quickly back into his room to plug it into the computer. Nothing happens.

“ _No_ ,” he moans. “No, no, no. Please, no.” He activates his computer screen and goes to comm one of the others, to call Pidge and plead for her to please fix this. No one answers, of course, because they're attacking Naxzela tomorrow. They’re asleep.

Keith collapses in his desk chair, staring helplessly down at the phone cupped in his hands. It’s so small, but when he grips it in one hand it feels strong. This phone has travelled from the south of Florida to a military base in Nevada, from the planet Earth and through countless galaxies, from Lance’s pocket to Keith’s gloved hands.

Keith dropped it, and it broke.

Keith thought he was alone before, but it takes that black screen for him to know it.

Lance had texted him, and Keith isn’t answering. Keith hadn’t even said a real goodbye. He can’t even wish them luck.

There’s no one at the base he can ask to fix this, because he’s not supposed to have it, and anyway, it’s not like he’s made _friends._ He doesn’t talk to anyone but Kolivan, and never about anything that isn’t business-related.

He shoves a hand into his hair, impulsively pressing the button to activate the screen over and over. There’s so much on this phone. His stupid text conversations with Lance, pictures of his friends, his fucking Angry Bird high score. It’s a comfort he didn’t even know he wanted or needed, and Lance gave it to him.

It’s late, but when he eventually gives up and decides to sleep he can’t. He lays on his side and clutches the phone in one hand, willing it to come alive. He composes messages to Lance in his head.

_“I’m sorry, man, but I broke your phone. I mean it’s kind of mine now but still.”_

_“I didn’t get a chance to see what you sent, but I’m sure it was dumb.”_

_“Actually, I’m sort of over the thing where we’re mean to each other all the time. I kind of want to be nice to you all the time.”_

_“I want you to like me.”_

_“I like you.”_

_“I maybe more than like you.”_

_“I hope that tomorrow everything goes well.”_

_“Please stay safe.”_

_“I want to see you again.”_

_***_

 

_Text Log — Stardate 10042347:0543_

**Lance:** okay so i don’t know if u aren’t getting these or

 **Lance:** if ur just ignoring me

 **Lance:** but we’re about to head for naxzela and i can’t just leave things up in the air

 **Lance:** if anything happens to me today, i want u to know i like u

 **Lance:** like...like like.

 **Lance:** maybe even love

 **Lance:** and i’ve been talking to hunk a lot and he seems to think u like me back. but it’s hard to tell through a phone screen

 **Lance:** and i know it’s kinda shitty to like maybe-deathbed confession u, but i’m too much of a coward to do it to ur face

 **Lance:** and u told me that it was my fault u left on my birthday so

 **Lance:** we’re even.

 **Lance:** so good luck, keith. please stay safe

 **Lance:** if or when i see u again, i’m gonna kiss ur whole face off.

***

 

When Keith makes the decision, he does it almost unconsciously.

This isn’t something unfamiliar to him. Keith is a pretty impulsive guy. He had joined the Garrison on a bet that he couldn't make it in (a bet from Shiro, the bastard. Keith had collected that fifty bucks with a smug sense of pride he’d never really felt before). Any internal debate over whether or not to drop out of the Garrison had lasted in the time between his fist swinging and landing on Iverson’s face. There had been a five minute period between watching the alien ship crash in the desert and Keith leaving to investigate. He had walked up the ramp of the blue lion with no thought at all.

Keith’s decision to leave Voltron and join the Blade of Marmora had been months of agony, of pros and cons. He had spent hours in the training room thinking about it, and countless nights alone in his room. He wasted days he could have spent with his friends worrying over it. He resents himself for that, but he made the right decision.

Keith is already in the Galra fighter before he even realizes what he’s doing. Keith is an action guy, he has to do something, anything. So he does what he does best, and he’s known for years now that what he’s best at _—_ what he was made for _—_ is flying.

Team Voltron isn’t responding, and Keith has to shove any and all worry about that down, down, down his throat to sit in a tight ball in his gut. There’s something happening on Naxzela, and it’s related to that cruiser. Case in point, Keith needs to destroy the cruiser. That’s also something he’s good at, breaking things. Spaceships, bones, phones, and friendships. He does it all!

His thoughts are getting a little hysterical, now. His head feels light and full of air, like a helium balloon, but his arms feel heavy like they're laden with bricks. He manages to pull himself together enough to assemble what’s left of the rebel fleet and begin attacking. When team Voltron joins the fray once again, the relief he feels as their voices ring through his earpiece is like a jolt to his system.

His shoulders slump, and a tingling, electric feeling rolls down from his head to his toes. He wants to let go of the controls of his ship and clap his hands over his ears, trapping the beautiful, wonderful sound of their voices inside of him, but they don’t bring good news, and Keith’s job isn’t done.

The particle barrier on the cruiser is holding steady, no matter what the rebels throw at it. Keith fires a few shots at it, but it does nothing. He’s hit, but he shakes it off. They need something stronger. Distantly, he registers Matt on the other side of the comm, calling for him. He can’t talk right now, sorry. It’s almost like he’s having an out-of-body experience.

Hah. Keith might be actually out-of-body pretty soon.

He almost, almost shuts off the comms when Matt starts freaking out, but he’s too greedy. He drinks up the familiar voice like water. He doesn't want to be alone.

Fuck, he doesn’t even know if this will _work._ Theoretically, it should, but it’s just one fighter against a full-sized and aggressively modified cruiser. He thinks that maybe, if Keith manages to break the barrier, then Voltron will be able to use Hunk’s bayard to destroy it. It would be worth it then. Keith looks for the greater good, always. It’s how he knows he was meant to join the Blade of Marmora. It’s in his blood.

He’s so close to the ship. It’s almost over. He spares a thought for his dad, wherever he is, and then for his mom. Maybe she’s out there somewhere with no idea any of this is happening. Maybe she died like he’s about to, sacrificing herself to the cause.

Lance seems to think Keith was built for great things. Maybe this is one of them.

He’s close enough now that he doesn’t really want to see how this ends, so he closes his eyes and he thinks of his friends.

Nothing happens.

 

***

 

Being back on the castleship is...bright.

Keith pulls his hood over his head, then drops it, then pulls it up again. He wants to activate his mask, but thinks that would probably be weird. He sort of understands now why his fellow Blade members keep theirs up all the time, though.

He can’t bring himself to move from the exit ramp of the fighter he stole. When he tried to walk, his legs had wobbled dangerously, so he sat down. Nothing feels real to him. His feet in front of him look like black blotches, his shaking hands in his lap look like someone else’s. All that registers is the bright light of the hangar stinging his eyes, and the hard metal below his ass.

Keith takes a deep breath, and then another one, and another, and another until he loses count. He stares at his hands, clenching and unclenching. He hadn’t landed in the lion hangar and all is quiet. Distantly, he feels the presence of two lions, a quiet rumbling in his head building up to a roar. Red isn't happy with him. He thinks “ _yeah, well join the club”_ and hopes she doesn’t do anything stupid. Then, the doors to the hangar whoosh open, and there are multiple pairs of angry footsteps.

“What the _fuck,”_ Pidge snarls, voice echoing in the big, empty room, “was it that you thought you were doing?”

“Hey, Pidge,” Keith says, looking up at her. Behind her, Matt peers over the top of her head, waving sheepishly before making a speedy retreat. Keith’s hood falls back and the painful light returns with a vengeance. He shakes his too-long bangs out of his face. “Long time, no see.”

“ _Fuck you_ ,” she snaps, stomping over and swiping at his head. “I don’t know what the fuck they’re teaching you at the Blade of Marmora, but that is _not_ how we do things.”

“Look, I didn’t really have a choice—”

“There’s always a choice, and it’s never that.” She sounds really young now, to him. It makes him feel even more tired, somehow. When he looks up at her she has tears, and he can’t deal with that, so he looks back down. She sighs, punches him in the shoulder, and tackles him. It takes a moment to realize it’s a hug. When she talks, her voice is pitchy and hoarse. “Don’t you _ever_ —”

Then there’s a sudden increase in pressure around Keith’s general person, and Hunk is saying. “You! You….you _dick!_ How could you do that to me? You know how I am with stress!” 

Keith still feels like he’s about to shake apart, but a deep sigh builds in his chest. The two of them are squeezing his armor uncomfortably against him, but the pressure feels nice, like they're holding him together. He goes limp against his friends. “Sorry,” he says, but it’s muffled against Pidge’s shoulder.

“No you’re not,” Pidge says, and then she tugs on his hair. “Don’t lie.”

“I am a little,” Keith says, leaning back. The trembling has spread from his hands to the entire rest of his body. His eyelid twitches. “I think I’m in shock or something.”

“Good, now you know how I feel,” Shiro says, walking through the doors of the hangar. He’s tailed by Allura and Coran, both of them discussing something very intently. Once Shiro reaches Keith, he lifts him clear off the ground and out of the clutches of Hunk and Pidge. For a second there’s something hard and angry in his dark eyes, but it passes, and he proceeds to give Keith the worst noogie of his life.

“No...Shiro...What the _fuck—_ ” Keith sputters, batting at Shiro’s hands and kicking.

“Matt told me what you did,” Shiro says, pushing Keith forward by the shoulders and looking him straight in the eyes. “He told all of us. How could you even _think_ of doing that?”

“I mean, we all would have probably died anyway, if Lotor hadn’t—” Keith is interrupted by Shiro pulling him into a tight hug.

“We could have figured something out, we could have done _anything else_ , Keith. How do you think we would have felt if it had worked, but we didn’t have you?”

When Keith pulls away, he’s surprised to see that Shiro’s eyes are wet now. “Hey,” Keith says, panicking. “Hey, no...No, Shiro, don’t do that—”

“Shut up,” Shiro says, looking away and blinking furiously. “Do you not see the white hair I already have? Do you want to make it worse? I’m twenty-five, Keith.”

“I’m...I’m sorry,” Keith says.

“I still don’t believe you,” Pidge says, from the floor.

“Well, I am,” Keith says stubbornly.

“I should certainly hope so.” Allura finally breaks away from Coran to walk over to Keith. “It’s wonderful to see you again, Keith, but maybe next time the circumstance of your visit should be less...dire.” She surprises Keith then by pulling him into a quick, warm hug.

When she pulls away, Coran is there, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I’m so glad you made it safely back home to us, my boy,” he says, and his voice is so fond that it cracks something inside Keith’s chest. This is what breaks him, makes his eyes go hot with tears.

“Thanks Coran, Allura,” Keith says, nodding to them in turn. “It’s...good to be home, I guess.”

“It is, but I’m afraid we have urgent business to attend to,” Allura says, frowning. “Lotor is set to land here any tick now, and we must be prepared to meet him.”

Keith nods, spine straightening even despite the tremors in his exhausted body. He doesn’t trust Lotor. There’s no way he saved them out of the kindness of his heart, there has to be something else going on. He’s reaching for his blade at his hip when he realizes.

“Um,” he says. “Where’s Lance?”

He’s bewildered to see them all flinch noticeably. There’s a moment of awkward silence.

“Well, uh,” Hunk starts. He makes a few aborted gestures with his hands. “So Matt has kind of a big mouth, right? And he wanted to talk to Pidge right away after the bomb was defused, so we kind of heard the story of your kamikaze episode pretty much immediately after it happened. Lance...didn’t take it well.”

“What do you mean?” Keith says, frowning.

“He’s pissed at you, dude,” Pidge says. “And we kind of had a long day, so when he said he was going to go to his room we didn’t argue.”

“Oh,” Keith says, looking down. He thinks of the details of their last fight and winces. “I can...see why he might feel that way.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Pidge mutters.

Anxiety is building up in Keith’s chest, a growing dread anticipating him and Lance’s reunion and the inevitable talk that will bring. But there will be time for that later. Right now, Lotor is about to board the castle—his _home_ — and he needs to be prepared.

Only, Shiro reaches a hand and places it gently on his shoulder, and Keith feels his resolve crumble away. “Keith, listen,” he says softly. “Kolivan is en route, and you look exhausted. Why don’t you go and rest a bit? I’m sure this talk with Lotor is going to take hours.”

“This is important,” Keith says, clutching at the hilt of his knife. “We can’t trust him. We need everyone on hand in case he turns on us.”

“I think between me, Allura, and Matt, we’ll be fine,” Shiro says. “And I’m sure Kolivan isn’t coming alone. You just...you look like you’re going to pass out, buddy.”

Keith looks away from him and at the others. They all have the same vaguely-worried look. He sighs. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll rest for a bit, but if anything happens you have to promise to come get me, okay?”

“Of course,” Allura says. “Now please, Keith. Go and rest.”

Keith nods, and makes his retreat. It doesn’t feel right, leaving them to Lotor. He should be there. But his vision is blurring at the edges, a little, and the shaking in his limbs is becoming unbearable.

The path to his old room is taken automatically, muscle memory leading him to where he needs to go. He reaches an arm out to trail his fingers along the wall. Being back home feels lighter with every step. He can feel himself relax, like his body is an old house settling. By the time he reaches his room, the idea of laying on his bed brings a near-euphoric feeling.

That is, until he opens the door and Lance is there, sitting on Keith’s bed and clutching Keith’s old jacket.

Lance looks up, and it’s evident right away that he’s been crying. His wide, shocked eyes are dewy. They shine in the dim light.

“Fuck,” Lance says, wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his sleep clothes. “Fuck, I thought...I thought you would be with everyone, to meet Lotor.”

“No, uh,” Keith starts. His throat is dry, he clears it. “They told me to go rest.”

“Huh,” Lance says, looking back down at the jacket in his lap. Keith takes him in. He thought that maybe, when he actually saw Lance again, that it might not live up to the hype he’s built in his head. He thought that maybe Keith missed the team so much that it had manifested as this mindless infatuation with Lance, who was his primary contact with them. He thought maybe he had fallen in love with the idea of Lance he had created across phone lines and text messages. He was wrong.

There are things about Lance that Keith had forgotten, small aspects that had gotten lost to the small size and aspect ratio of Keith’s phone. He’s taller than Keith remembers, his limbs longer. His skin isn’t as smooth as he remembers it, dotted and slashed with scars. When he looks back up at Keith, his face is angry, but his eyes are the brightest thing Keith’s ever seen. Keith is transfixed.

“I can’t believe you,” Lance says, voice low. “I can’t believe that, after all that’s happened, that you would…”

Keith sighs, stepping fully into the room and letting the door shut behind him. He collapses against it, rubbing his face with his hands. “I didn’t think I had a choice,” he says, voice pleading.

“Of course you didn’t!” Lance explodes. “You didn’t think! You just acted, because that’s what you _always_ do, and that’s what the Blade of Marmora has encouraged you to do!”

Keith groans. “It’s not like I don’t have _free will_ ,” he says. “I haven’t been... _brainwashed_ by the Blade! No matter what you think, I made that choice because I felt it was what I had to do, and that’s it!”

Lance ignores him. “I knew,” he says, standing. The jacket falls to the ground. “I _knew_ being with them would be bad for you. I knew it, but I respected your decision. I shouldn’t have! I should have _fought—”_

 _“I was doing what I thought was right,”_ Keith snarls. “There was nothing you could have done to change my mind, Lance! You all, here on the castle, you think you can make everything work out all the time, but sometimes you can’t! Sometimes it’s not all for one, it’s one for all, and if I had to sacrifice myself for the good of an _entire solar system_ then I was going to do it!”

“You used to think that way too,” Lance accuses, pointing at Keith. “You used to think like us. You used to try and save everyone. How many members of the Blade of Marmora have you seen die, in the eight months you’ve been gone? How many have sacrificed themselves for the mission?”

“They knew what they were doing.”

“No, they knew what they had been told their entire lives, that failure is not an option.” Lance turns around, burying his hands in his hair at the back of his head. “What _is it_ with the Galra and death? Knowledge or death, victory or death. It’s not always that simple! It’s okay to retreat, sometimes! It’s okay to get out of there with your lives and try again!” He turns back to look at Keith, face pleading. He holds his hands out to Keith like he’s offering something. “What’s the point of fighting for a better universe if you’re not around to see it?”

Keith doesn’t say anything, hunching further into himself and looking at his feet. Lance drops his hands. “I don’t know _—_ ” Lance starts, then swallows and tries again. “I don’t know what I would have done, if you hadn’t made it, Keith.”

Keith looks back up, and Lance is swiping angrily at his face. “I know we were fighting then, and...we’re fighting now, but why didn’t you answer my messages?” Lance’s eyes are big, and vulnerable. “I couldn’t...you didn’t say _anything—”_

For a moment, Keith is taken aback by the sudden change in the conversation. His eyes widen. “No, oh fuck, Lance, I’m sorry,” he says, moving forward. He wants to grasp at Lance’s arms, to reassure him, but he’s still in a sort of awe at Lance’s presence. His hands hover between them, afraid to touch. “I didn’t get them. I...I fucked up. I broke the phone.”

He moves his hands up to his hair. “I dropped it, like a fucking idiot, and it won’t turn on. And I just.” He stops, covering his eyes with one hand. “I’m sorry, I know it was your phone. I...I really appreciated you letting me use it. It saved me, over there.” He drops his hand and stares at the floor. “I was so fucking lonely, Lance. I know I made the right choice in going, but I was. And you gave me your phone, and it was like...It was my friend, because it was _you_ , and I broke it.”

Lance doesn’t say anything, and Keith takes a long, shuddering breath. “I thought I knew what being lonely was like before,” he says, shaking his head. He knows he’s rambling. “I wanted to talk to you so bad, Lance, because I…”

Lance steps forward then, close enough that Keith can feel the warmth of him. “Because what, Keith?”

When Keith looks up, Lance is right there, right in front of him. After all this time spent apart, he’s having a hard time comprehending that. He looks like a dream. “Because, when I talk to you, I laugh,” he says. “Because you supported my decision to leave when I thought I was being pulled apart. Because you kept me sane this past year.” Keith looks away. “Because I think I love you, Lance. And I almost died without telling you that.”

There’s a moment, and then there are hands grasping at his. “Keith,” Lance says. Keith hunches his shoulders. “Keith, look at me.”

Keith doesn’t, because he’s too fucking scared to, but soon Lance’s hands leave his and reappear at his cheeks, guiding his face to the side and up, directly at Lance.

Lance is smiling, and it’s the best, brightest thing Keith has seen in ages. He feels like he can’t breath looking at it, trapped in Lance’s gaze. “Keith, listen to me,” he says. “I’m so happy you didn’t read my texts now, because this is better, this is so much better.”

And then he brings their faces together, and they’re kissing. Keith’s eyes fall closed with the sweetness of it. It should probably be a passionate, desperate kiss, or a brutal coming together of two people who just came close to death, but it isn’t. It’s like coming home, Keith thinks. It’s just as it should be. It feels right.

Keith snakes his arms up and around Lance, feeling Lance’s weight against him. He grasps Lance’s shirt in his hands, pulling Lance to him. Lance makes a pleased humming noise and moves away, only to bury his face in Keith’s shoulder.

Keith grips him tighter, and Lance’s arms wrap around his shoulders, and they’re so close but Keith wants to be closer. He wants this forever. He never wants to leave. “I love you too,” Lance says, so quietly, just for Keith. “I love you so much.”

Keith nods against him, clutching even tighter. He feels warm from head to toe. He feels lighter than air. He feels...drained.

He drops his head down on Lance’s shoulder and heaves a deep sigh. All of the stress of the last few days—his fight with Lance, his broken phone, the battle—floats away, up and off of his shoulders.

“I love you,” Keith says again, because he can. But his voice is slurring a little, and his eyelids are heavy.

Lance pulls back, and Keith makes a protesting noise, twisting his fingers in Lance’s shirt. Lance’s eyes roam over his face. “Okay,” he says. “I love you too, but the others were right. You really do need rest.”

Keith wants to complain, but Lance is right, so he nods, moving towards the bed only for Lance to stop him with an hand on his arm.

“Nope, nuh-uh,” Lance says. “No one’s been in here for months. It’s covered in space dust. Come on.” He pulls at Keith’s arm. “You’re coming to my room.”

Keith nods and follows, physically and mentally incapable of denying Lance anything at this point. His heart stutters as Lance entwines their fingers on the short walk there, swinging their arms a bit.

Keith is so tired it’s hard to believe he isn’t unconscious and dreaming this. They reach Lance’s room and Keith can’t even summon the energy to be nervous about it. He fumbles for the clasps on his armor, only for Lance to slap his hands away. Keith lets him, slumping forward to rest his forehead on Lance’s shoulder again. He likes it there. It’s nice.

“Am I—Did you drug me, or something?” Keith slurs, painstakingly lifting an arm so Lance can reach the latch at his side. “Why am I so tired?”

“When, in the short time we’ve been together, would I have had the time to drug you?” Lance asks.

“Mouth.”

Lance makes a “pfft” noise. “Yeah, man. In a plot to make sure you never leave us again, I drugged you Poison Ivy-style with my lips. I’ve been coating my mouth with chemicals for months to prepare. No, dude, it’s probably that you haven’t had any actual sleep in months, always jet setting to another secret spy location.” He leans away to pull off Keith’s chest plate, and Keith sighs at the release of pressure. All that’s left is his undersuit.“Jesus, do you ever take this thing off? In all our calls you were wearing it.”

“Gotta be prepared,” Keith mutters. Lance “tsks” and shakes his head, grasping at Keith’s arms and sliding down to hold Keith’s newly exposed hands.

“I’m still mad at you, you know,” Lance says softly. He stares at their hands, a tiny furrow in his brow. “You...what you did, it wasn’t okay.”

Keith sighs. “I know,” he says. “I never actually thought you would _like_ it, you know.”

Lance rolls his eyes. “Yeah, whatever,” he says. “We’ll talk about this in the morning, the team and Lotor can wait. You look dead on your feet.”

They both take a second to wince at the phrasing.

“I’m going to get you something to wear, okay? Do you want to shower?” he asks, and Keith shakes his head. He’s probably gross, but he thinks if he stays standing any longer he’s going to drop.

Lance wrinkles his nose, but it’s a playful expression. It’s so reminiscent of how they were back before Keith joined the Blade, and it inspires a pang of homesickness in him. It’s weird, how he can be home and still feel homesick, like his body’s forgotten what home feels like.

“You’re lucky I love you, smelly,” Lance says, turning to rummage through his closet for some pajamas. Keith begins the tedious process of peeling off the thick undersuit.

The thick lining of the suit has left glaring, red indents in Keith’s pale skin, stinging painfully as Keith pries the fabric off of himself. There are a number of bruises on his person, and some of them look old. He can’t really pick apart which were caused when.

He’s poking at a suspiciously large one when a bunch of fabric hits him in the face, and when he looks up Lance has an arm over his eyes.

“Go on,” Lance says. “Get changed, I won’t look.” Keith can see Lance’s blush rise up his neck, and can’t help smiling.

“I don’t care,” Keith says, reaching down to pick up the clothes. “If you look, I mean.”

“Ugh, shut up,” Lance says petulantly, and it’s so fucking cute.

“You’re so cute,” Keith says, rolling the overly long sleep pants a few times at the waist. “You know that?”

Lance huffs, turning his back to Keith. “Whatever.”

Keith just shrugs in response, pulling the shirt over his head. The fabric is soft and light against him, and compared to his Marmora uniform it’s almost like he’s wearing nothing at all.

“Okay, I’m dressed,” he says, and Lance turns back around.

“Dude, _dude,_ ” he says. “You look so comfy. And _I’m_ the cute one?” He crosses the small space to Keith, grabbing Keith’s hands to look him up and down. “Just look at you, oh my god. You look so tiny!” He frowns, spreading Keith’s arms out to the side. Keith indulges him, but gives him a deadpan stare. “Wait, _are_ you tiny? Did you get skinnier? What are they _feeding_ you? I need to talk to Hunk—”

“Lance. _Lance._ ” Keith untangles their fingers and steps forward, closing the space between them. He lifts his palms to rest at the sides of Lance’s neck. “Tomorrow,” he says. “Talk to Hunk tomorrow. I’m _really_ fucking tired.”

Lance looks sceptical, but his face softens as he meets Keith’s eyes. “Okay,” he says. “But tomorrow, Hunk’s probably going to make you a feast. You know that, right?”

Keith groans. “Yes, okay. Can we go to sleep now, please?” He reaches blindly for Lance’s hand and starts pulling, aiming for the bed.

“If you wanted me in bed with you so bad, all you had to do was ask, babe.”

Keith groans again, louder, and collapses onto the mattress, scooting backwards towards the wall. “Please, for the love of god, will you shut the fuck up?”

Lance laughs, dropping onto the bed next to Keith. “Aw, love you too, sweetheart.”

“Are we really doing the pet name thing?”

“We sure are, darlin’.”

“Ugh, no, don’t,” Keith says, reaching up to clasp his hands over Lance’s mouth. “That’s the worst.”

Lance reaches up to pull Keith’s hands off his mouth, and takes advantage of his grip by wrapping Keith’s arms around him. “What, ‘darlin’’?”

“Lance, I swear to god.”

“Okay, okay,” Lance laughs. “...Sugarpie.”

“ _Ugh_ ,” Keith whines. He pushes forward to press his face to Lance’s collarbone and feels Lance’s arms move around his waist in response. “You’re the worst.”

“You love me.”

Keith snorts (ignoring Lance’s whiny “Dude, _gross!_ ”). Keith is more comfortable than he’s been in forever. The traumatic events of the day feel like distant memories. “I _guess_.”

“You do!” Lance says, squeezing Keith tightly. “You said it. No takebacks.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Keith admits. It’s nearly impossible for him to keep his eyes open. His _eyelashes_ feel heavy. “I do.”

Lance hums contentedly, ducking down to press a kiss to the top of Keith’s head. “Go to sleep, Keith,” he says into Keith’s hair. “I’ll be here in the morning.”

Keith does, and Lance is.

 

 

 

_CODA_

 

_Text Log — Stardate 10192347:1843_

**Lance:** hey keith guess what!!

 **Lance:** it’s t-minus TWO (2) days until u return to me!

 **Lance:** (and also ur BIRTHDAY)

 **Lance:** (but mostly ME)

 **Lance:** ur 100% absolutely, positively sure kolivan is giving u the day off right?

 **Keith:** YES, Lance. I’m sure.

 **Keith:** It’s part of Shiro’s stupid “human health” checklist.

 **Keith:** You get me two weekends a month.

 **Keith:** I feel like a kid with divorced parents.

 **Lance:** um excuse me

 **Lance:** yes it’s a Keith-Care stipulation but it was also mandated. by ME. the BIRTHDAY PRESIDENT.

 **Keith:** Right. I forgot the true Voltron chain of command.

 **Keith:** Space Princess > Birthday President > Black Paladin, etc.

 **Lance:** please when it comes to birthdays allura doesn’t have SHIT on me

 **Lance:** birthday president reigns supreme

 **Keith:** Wow, I’m so happy we democratically elected you as our BP.

 **Keith:** The power hasn’t gone to your head at all.

 **Lance:** please keith u know ur sarcasm is meaningless here

 **Lance:** and.

 **Lance:** i don’t want to get all mushy on u but i CAN’T WAIT to see u

 **Lance:** ur gonna love ur present i know it

 **Lance:** but i wanted to know. i’ve got stuff planned and everything, but do u have any specific like...requests?

 **Lance:** like pidge already fixed ur phone, and we’re scheduled for an hours-long, uninterrupted Date Night

 **Lance:** wink wink

 **Lance:** but is there anything else u think u would want?

 **Keith:** First off, please be as mushy as you want. You know I screenshot it for the Lonely Nights.

 **Keith:** (I’m kidding and if you tell the rest of the team otherwise I will block you and deny it.)

 **Keith:** (Okay, I’m only half kidding.)

 **Keith:** Second, I kind of do have something I want? But it’s kind of stupid…

 **Lance:** keith, nothing u could want would ever be stupid!! nineteen is an important milestone!!

 **Keith:** Hah. You think every birthday is important, Birthday President.

 **Keith:** Where was this mentality when it was your turn to have a birthday party?

 **Lance:** i think every birthday is important because they are!! i’m turning over a new leaf.

 **Lance:** now tell me what u want i’ll make it happen.

 **Keith:** Well.

 **Keith:** Can we take a selfie? You and me?

**Author's Note:**

> again!! thanks to mika for helping me out she's a lifesaver
> 
> u can find me [here](http://wizzardblizzard.tumblr.com/) on tumblr if u want to cry about keith and lance. thanks for reading!!
> 
> #LetTeamVoltronSayFuck  
> #FuckTheBoM


End file.
